More Work Ahead

Spent all damn week at work. I really need a better job. I mean, I like what I do, but it's hard work and it pays like shit. Less than like shit. You all probably think theatre just happens, actors get up on stage and just make it happen. Well, I make it happen. All my unappreciated coworkers make it happen. It's like the writers' strike, except they get more credit than most backstage technicians do. And we don't go on strike. Well, not if we're not in the union, which I'm not. But I stand in solidarity with all my technician brothers and sisters who are on strike in New York.

You didn't want to hear that. You wanted me to write that I was busy all weekend getting fucked in the ass by James, or someone. Well, I'm too tired to make that story up if I wanted to, which I don't because I'm trying to be as honest as possible. So sorry sex-fans out there, this weekend was almost completely sex-free.

But... my brother is coming home for Thanksgiving. He says he won't be bringing any friends. And I can live in hope that one or both of my sisters will make it. So I imagine there might be some fun going on there. I'll try to make some time to keep you all posted. But there is, as the title says, more work ahead, so I don't know when I'll have that time.

Since I'm pretty much out of my brain with tired, I'm going to talk about something, and I hope it's coherent.

I was thinking about James, among other things, and asking myself why I was enjoying it. I think part of it is that it's new. I like new. And every time with him is a new experience for him, so it's like a new experience for me too.

Another part is me being a sicko. I like being with a teenager. I'll admit it now. It's fun. And the fact that we have to be secret makes it even more exciting. I've had illicit sex in the past, but it's always fun.

But getting down to technique, he's getting better, but with another guy I would have moved on by now because he's not good enough to stick around just for technique. Sorry James, if you ever read this, which I guess I sincerely hope you won't, but someday soon, you will be good enough that a gal would stick around just for technique. And let's face it, you don't want a relationship with someone who only fucks you because you're good in bed. He is good in his own way, as I've tried to explain: he doesn't last forever, like some people I could mention, but he's ready to go as many times as I want, which is a definitely plus. He's really very good with his hands, and his mouth ain't shabby either when the two combine. His cock is normal size, and I'm not going to destroy his ego by measuring because it really doesn't matter too much to me. His thrusting is rhythmic but gets monotonous; he has to work on varying the pace, getting clues from his partner, that kind of thing. Funny, actors are really good at that; I guess it's all the improv exercises they have to do where they pretend to be a mirror, or what have you.

If he learns to vary the strokes, maybe pull out and push back in when a gal needs that, and when he figures out how a girl is trying to tell him where to go, he'll be fine. But that kind of thing can't be taught, and it can't come from just one partner. You have to learn that all women are different, just like I had to learn all guys were different (and all women are different too, actually). With guys it's easier, but they're lousy communicators, so to break out from a good fuck to a great fuck, you have to be a fucking mindreader for fuck's sake. Oh well, I'm bitching.

Anyway, his looks, his technique, his youth, the secrecy, all of that plays a part in my enjoyment of him as a partner. But I realized while thinking about it during one of my many long stretches of waiting that a thing I never realized I enjoy about him a lot. He likes my breasts.

It's not a big thing. But I've never had a guy enjoy my breasts so much. They really aren't very impressive, not the huge knockers my sister has for instance, not porn-star boobs. I've had some guys fool around with me and spend time in the breast region, but it always felt like they were just doing it for me, not because they really wanted to do it. James isn't like that at all. I have to kick him out after a while because he'd never get around to fucking me otherwise.

I'm not knocking my dad or brother either. But I realized that they don't see my breasts the same way, because when they both started with me, I didn't have breasts at all. I had little tiny ones when my brother and I had our first time, and I had nothing when I lost my virginity. They've never been big erogenous zones in my relationships with my family. Sure, they get attention, but not the worship James gives them.

So I guess I'm happy he's a breast man, or something. If I had the boobs to do it, I'd titty-fuck him. But I don't think I can. I don't know: do all breast men really like big tits? Or all men, and James is just an aberration? I'm feeling insecure about my breasts now. I wish he were here to make me feel better. Maybe I'll take a picture of them and send it to him. Sounds like a bad idea, so I'll probably do it.

P.S. Oh, by the way, I should mention that while I enjoy nice breasts, in women I am much more into the curves than any specific feature. I love good proportions, regardless of how proportionally big or small they are. On men, I like well-built but not overly muscled, but looks are really only important if I plan on ever seeing them again. Wow, that makes me sound like such a tart. Okay, guilty as charged.